


Grotesque

by scullywolf



Series: TXF: Scenes in Between [63]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 08:11:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4869626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullywolf/pseuds/scullywolf





	Grotesque

_“I have to tell you, I am really disappointed in you.”_  
_“Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you by not disappointing you.”_  
 _“After all this time, I thought maybe you’d finally put your feet back on the ground. Clearly I was mistaken.”_

Guys like Patterson, they were never interested in listening to theories that didn’t line up with their own. They couldn’t bear the thought that someone might disagree with their profiles, as if their predictions about a killer’s behavior or motivations were somehow evidence of omniscience. It was the greatest danger of success -- a form of madness in its own right.

A _good_ profiler, on the other hand, accepted that psychological models were malleable and would always allow for change as new information came to light. Sure, you needed to be confident enough in the basics -- every profile had to start somewhere reasonable, or it would be no better than guessing at random -- but as much as it was possible to predict human behavior based on circumstances and actions, one could never know the truth absolutely. Even serial killers were, after all, still individuals.

Mulder pushed off from the windowsill, scrubbing his face with his palms and turning back to the table so he could collect his things. For a moment, as he looked at the books and papers spread across the surface, he could see what Patterson saw: a gigantic waste of time.

But it had always been that way with him and Patterson, wasn’t it?

 _Bill_ , Mulder thought, defiantly. _Eight years down the road, I don’t owe the man any deference. He’s just another agent._

He shook his head and gave a mirthless chuckle as he gathered up the strewn papers. _Thought I’d put my feet on the ground? Guess you failed to notice where I've been working since I left your hellhole of a department._ He put his notes in his briefcase, piled the books and took them to a reshelving cart, shrugged on his coat and headed for the exit, with a cursory nod at the librarian waiting to lock up.

In the car, he sat for a moment, trying to decide what to do next. It was midnight, but Mulder could see no point in going home. He wouldn’t be able to sleep well anyway, and the sooner he solved this thing, the sooner Patterson would crawl back to Quantico and leave him alone. He needed to go back to Mostow’s place, figure out what he was missing. Patterson was willing to write Mostow off as insane, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be some intangible but real force driving his insanity. There was order in his disorder, and Mulder was right on the edge of being able to see it. Only by truly understanding the root of Mostow’s compulsions could he even hope to understand why someone else had picked up where the other man had left off, murdering and disfiguring in an identical manner.

He started the car and headed toward Mostow’s.


End file.
